


Give Me Your Hand, Darling

by greenwillow



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Domestic, F/F, Fix-It, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27685145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenwillow/pseuds/greenwillow
Summary: After Rory and Logan break up, Rory moves in with Paris until she can get back on her feet. When she moves out, her new place isn't far away. But Paris would prefer her closer.
Relationships: Paris Geller/Rory Gilmore
Comments: 12
Kudos: 80





	Give Me Your Hand, Darling

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't watched the revival in about a year, and I know next to nothing about publishing and living in New York but that didn't stop me from writing this so hopefully it won't stop you from reading it.

When Rory showed up on her doorstep that day last spring Paris would never have suspected she’d still be single and living in New York six months later. Rory's a catch. And the kid is kind of an incentive for at least one ex-boyfriend to stick around.

But here they are in October, eating Chinese food on the floor of Rory’s apartment so that they can keep an eye on newly crawling Leo.

“It’s been the longest day,” Rory sighs, lifting a dumpling to her mouth. “That meeting, the one with Carroll House, really took it out of me. I'm not sure I have what they’re looking for.”

“What about Brookfield?”

“They called me back, but I’m not sure they’re the best fit either.”

“How’s their roster, a bit too John Green?” Paris asks, redirecting Leo from wandering off the rug by extending her leg.

“Eh, too Suzanne Collins to be honest. Everyone seems to want the next dystopian YA series. Nobody in the indie world is jumping at the chance to publish a memoir.”

“You’ll find the right fit.”

“I wish I had your confidence,” Rory sighs, setting the dumplings down on the coffee table and picking up the lo mein.

“I ordered your crab rangoon,” Paris interjects, sliding a box towards Rory.

“Thanks,” Rory says, taking one of the deep-fried wontons and setting it on a napkin. “Anyway, I just feel like it might not happen. Which is fine, I guess. Maybe I just need time to rework it.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Paris, you haven't even read the whole thing. And it’s not exactly your area of expertise.”

Paris looks over archly, adjusting the collar of her oxford with a sharp tug.

“I’m sorry, but you have politics, medicine, the law, and architecture,” laughs Rory, gesturing with her chopsticks, “Let me have writing.”

“Don’t forget divorce,” Paris adds dryly, snatching the lo mein.

Rory turns sympathetic. “Yeah, how’s that going anyway?”

“Well, the final papers came through,” Paris says through a mouthful of noodles then dabs at the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “I signed them and sent them off yesterday.”

Rory’s eyes widens. “Oh, shit—I’m really sorry, Paris.”

“It’s ok,” Paris shrugs. “I didn’t say anything at the time, I just needed it to be a me moment, you know? It was a long time coming, it’s not like it was a surprise or anything.”

“Yeah, but still. End of an era.”

“Ooof. Cheers to that,” Paris says, knocking her bottle of beer against the can of soda Rory had raised in her direction. “Hey, he’s getting away again.”

Rory scrambles on her knees to where Leo was beginning to crawl towards the kitchen.

“You know, we can always eat after he’s gone to bed. Or you can take me up the nanny.”

“I don’t need your charity, Paris,” Rory says matter-of-factly, bouncing Leo on her knee. He coos happily, grabbing for a container of rice that was just out of reach.

“It’s not a Dickens novel, Rory,” Paris replies. “I’m just offering to help lighten your load while you try to get this book published.”

“If I need a nanny, I’ll get a nanny. I can afford to delve into my savings a bit since you wouldn’t let me pay you rent when we were crashing at your place.”

“Mmmmm. Well, I couldn’t have you running back to Huntzberger, could I?” Paris takes a sip of her beer, stealing a glance at Rory as she tips her head back. “How is he, anyway?”

“Fine, far as I know,” Rory says, frowning slightly. “We haven’t talked much the past couple of weeks.”

“He’s back with Odette?”

“Seems like it.”

Rory and Logan had briefly, as Rory put it, “tried to make things work” when she told him she was pregnant, but that hadn’t lasted long. When Leo was three months old Rory had officially moved out and into Paris’s new place until she got back on her feet, and that was that. Rory never really said why they broke up, but Paris hadn't needed an explanation. Logan was a decent enough guy and a supportive enough partner, but his heart wasn’t in it and neither was Rory’s. When they broke up Rory hadn’t wanted to do the full Lorelei thing and return to Stars Hollow, so she’d come to New York and the rest was history.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you we’ll need to have our movie nights here for the next month or so. I’m having some celebratory post-divorce renovations done.”

“Oh yeah?” Rory’s voice is artificially high pitched, she’s making funny faces at Leo. “You finally getting that tile changed out in the bathrooms?”

“Yeah, and putting up a few walls in the living area.”

Rory’s head shoots up, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“I stand by my conviction that open concept living spaces are the worst trend of the current era.”

“Why didn't you just buy a different apartment?”

“The location was perfect. You can’t put a price on that. Well, you can, and I did. Besides, there used to be walls there. I’m just restoring the architectural integrity of the place, yuppies be damned.”

“You’re crazy.” Rory shakes her head. “Where are you going to be staying while you have all this work done?”

“I’ll reserve a room at The Belvedere if it gets really hectic.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. If you need to get out you can stay here. Leo still sleeps in my room for now, so the guest room is free. I mean, if you don't mind stepping over baby stuff everywhere.”

She gestures to a diaper caddy beside the couch, stuffed to the brim with wipes, burp cloths, and soft toys.

“I have two kids, Rory. I am familiar with the concept.”

“Speaking of the kids, where are they going to stay?”

“At the old house. Doyle is actually taking some time off from work. Apparently, one recurring point from our counseling got through to him and he agreed to spend more time in New York.”

“Well, that’s something.”

“Yeah, it’s something.” Paris takes the last swig of her beer and sets the bottle down gently. “I mean, he’s not a bad father. I never thought he was. He’s just not the right person for me.”

“I know the feeling,” Rory sighs.

Paris watches Rory set Leo down and hand him one of those weird natural wood teething things she’d received in a care package from Lane.

“We don’t have to talk about it, you know,” she says tentatively. “But if you want to, I’m here.”

Rory looks up at her with a teasing smile. “You’re getting soft in your old age, Geller.”

“Yeah, yeah I know.”

* * *

“What on earth are you doing?” Rory asks, shifting Leo on her hip as she hovered on the threshold of the kitchen.

“I’m cooking, Rory. You’re familiar with the concept?”

Rory’s kitchen counter—“efficiently” sized, according to the rental brochure—is covered in bowls, kitchen tools, and one very awkward oversize cutting board in the shape of New York State that must have been a housewarming gift from Lorelei.

“You’ve got flour on your forehead,” Rory gestures with her free hand, then sets her bag down by the couch and picks up a stuffed dog for Leo. “Why are you cooking?”

“I figured someone ought to use this room,” Paris replies, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “Besides, I wanted to thank you for letting me crash here lately.”

“What are you cooking?” Rory continues, making her way back to the stove, Leo still in tow.

“Coq au Vin and roasted brussels sprouts,” Paris says, stirring the small pot of balsamic reduction as she moves it off the burner to cool.

“I didn’t know you knew how to cook.” Rory turns to Leo, her smile magnified for his benefit. “Did you know your Aunt Paris knew how to cook?”

“Not all of us can survive on takeout and pop tarts three meals a day. Besides, I went through a Julia Child phase early in the separation from Doyle.”

“Of course you’ve mastered the art of French cooking in addition to everything else,” Rory says, dipping her pinky into the sauce. “Wow, that’s good. Like good good. Like Sookie good.”

Paris checks her watch then reaches into the oven with a triple folded dishtowel to gingerly pull out a sheet tray.

“You made a pie?”

“Technically it’s a galette. Do you know you have no oven mitts or even an apron? Your kitchen is a disgrace, Gilmore.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m a new parent, extend some sympathy.”

“Like it would be any different if you weren’t,” Paris snorts.

“It would be a little different.”

“You’d have more pudding cups and fewer vegetable purees in the cupboards.”

“I maintain I would have the same quantity of pudding cups. Wow, this really does smell amazing. I’m impressed.” Rory walks back to her bag to grab Leo’s favorite blanket. “I'm gonna put him down for bed, he’s pretty tired from our trip back. What time is dinner?”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Perfect!” she replied, passing through the kitchen again.

“Goodnight little guy,” Paris says, gently squeezing the Leo’s chubby cheeks. “With any luck, you won’t inherit your mother’s taste buds.”

“Uncalled for.”

“Yeah, yeah. Where are your good wine glasses, the ones I gave you for your birthday last year?”

“Top right cabinet!” Rory’s voice echoes down the hallway.

Paris finds them there as promised, nestled between a pair of novelty shot glasses with pictures of pin-up girls and a slightly rusty waffle maker.

She is pretty sure Rory has only used her dining table as a baby changing station since she moved in. Usually she eats on the couch or stands next to Leo in the high chair as he eats.

Somehow she manages to find a tablecloth in the sideboard—both gifts from Emily, no doubt. At least someone in the Gilmore family had standards. By the time Rory finishes Leo’s bedtime routine the table is set and the wine poured.

“Wow, this is really nice, Paris. Thanks.” Rory tucks her hair behind her ears as she pulls her chair in. She wears a chin-length bob again, just like freshman year of college. Paris had always preferred that length on her.

“All in a day’s work. I had some time off from the clinic, so I figured why not. Anyway, how was your visit? How’s Lorelei?”

“Good…great, actually.” Rory takes a sip of wine. “Mmm, that’s nice. They’re happy, you know? The second inn is coming along really well, and Luke has a bunch of new projects around the house, somehow. He never really rests. Reminds me of you, actually.”

“That may be the only time I’ve been compared to Luke Danes,” Paris replies, taking a bite of chicken.

“Well, I’m right. You’re both really hard-working, and dedicated, and maybe you’re rough around the edges but that just means it’s extra special when you care about someone, you know?”

Rory had been staring down at her plate, but she looks up with a softness in her eyes that almost makes Paris catch her breath.

“Yeah, I mean, when you put it that way…”

“Got to see Lane too,” Rory continues, refocusing. “Steve and Kwan were talking about this new handheld video game, I thought Gabby would like it.”

“What’s it called?”

“Uh…I don’t know, actually.”

“You ok over there?” Paris asks, deflecting from her own inexplicable nervousness by using a slightly louder tone of voice.

“Yeah, yeah I'm just tired, I think.” Rory taps her fork against her plate. “This is really good.”

“You said that already.”

“Well, I’m complimenting you again. Deal with it.”

Rory insists on taking care of cleaning up (other than the cast iron pan, which Paris refused to let her touch), so Paris has another glass of wine on the couch while Rory washes the dishes.

Rory seems odd. Something is off. She was really quiet through the rest of dinner. Maybe Logan had called earlier. Or maybe her visit to Stars Hollow had convinced her that she needed to move back.

That’s probably it.

It’s what Paris has been assuming in the back of her mind would happen at some point or another. Rory is so close to her mom, and though Paris has no experience with that kind of mother-daughter relationship she knows it must be hard for them to be apart while Leo was so young.

The manuscript shopping is taking its toll too, as much as Rory tries to hide it. Of course, it’s unlikely she’d strike out everywhere—she’s a good writer, and she has connections, and it’s a good story.

But if Rory doesn’t want to talk about it, Paris won't press her. She turns the tv on.

“No C-Span,” Rory reprimands, joining her on the couch and snagging the remote.

“It’s the Sunday night Q & A!”

“I told you, in my house the only acceptable evening programming is garbage reality tv or Turner Classic Movies.”

Paris grabs the remote back and flicks through the channels till she lands on the opening credits for A Foreign Affair. “Jean Arthur and Marlene Dietrich it is then.”

The tinny music of the opening credits fads and Rory settles into the couch, her knee bumping into Paris’s as she pulls a blanket over both of them.

Whatever nervousness Paris had felt during dinner bubbled up again before the final act. Marlene Dietrich rescues Jean Arthur’s character from a fate worse than death and Paris realizes she’s bouncing her knee up and down in quite a distracting way.

Rory mutes the tv.

“You’re going to miss something,” Paris points out perfunctorily.

“I’m already missing something. What’s going on, Paris?”

“Nothing, just…” Paris plays with the frayed edges of the blanket in her lap. “I guess, if you and Leo are moving back to Stars Hollow I was hoping you would tell me so I can start planning my visits. The clinic schedule is pretty busy but I can probably take a weekend a month out of town. But it depends on what you’ll be doing, too—“  
“I’m not moving back to Stars Hollow, Paris.”

Paris glances up, genuinely surprised.

“You’re not?”

“No. I miss my mom but I love it here. I mean not here here. This apartment is fine. But I mean New York generally. Maybe eventually I’ll move back, but now right now. I’m just getting started, you know?”

Paris smiles, relaxing back into the couch. “Yeah, that makes sense. Ok.”

“Is that why you were being all weird during dinner?”

“I wasn’t being weird,” Paris says, setting her empty wine glass on the coffee table beside Rory’s. “Actually you were being weird.”

“I was not!”

Rory’s cheeks are flushed the same rosy color as her cardigan, and her mouth is just barely stained with Burgundy.

Paris’s eyes are locked on hers, and at that moment she knows it’s now or never.

She leans forward, tentatively at first, waiting until she could feel Rory’s breath on her face, then their lips meet.

The faded cherry of Rory’s lip balm is just discernible under the slight acidity of the wine. She catches her breath, sure Rory is going to pull back, but then she doesn’t, and then Rory is kissing her back.

“Paris—“ she whispers, “are you sure you want to do this?”

“Extremely.”

Paris moves the blanket out of the way and slings a leg over Rory’s lap without missing a beat. Rory had been cupping her face, and their noses bump as she turned her head. They both breath a laugh. Then Rory’s hands are in her hair and Paris is unbuttoning Rory’s sweater, exposing the décolletage underneath. Paris’s eyes dart down and back up.

“You wanna take this to the bedroom?”

“Guest room,” Rory corrects, eyes wide and the ghost of a smile on her lips.

“Yeah, guest room.”

* * *

By some good fortune, Leo sleeps in the next morning. Rory had crept out to the living room to retrieve the baby monitor at some point during the night, and Paris doesn’t blame her. She remembers when the kids were that small she’d been convinced they’d stop breathing if she wasn't watching them at all times.

Laying with Rory burrowed into her side she doesn’t even mind that she’s had to pee for hours at this point. Soon, she’d get up. For now, this bed is perfect.

Rory wakes with a start, half jumping out of bed, and then her eyes light on the baby monitor and she relaxes.

“He’s still asleep. Wow.”

She lies back down and rolls towards Paris.

“Hey.” Her voice sounds husky, a little hoarse.

“Hey yourself,” Paris replies, tilting her head and smiling.

“You have cute bedhead.” Rory kisses her.

“You know,” Paris says when they’ve disentangled, “this place is really small. This second bedroom is basically a closet. I don’t even think you could fit a dresser in here.”

Rory snorts into her pillow. “I know, but it’s just me and Leo, Paris. We don’t need much.”

Paris brushes a strand of hair out of Rory’s face. “Well, I was thinking—when my renovation is done, why don't you two just move back in with me?”

Rory’s eyebrows quirk up. “You don’t think that would be a little…fast?”

“Rory, we've known each other for how long now? Plus, this place really isn’t the best. I mean, it’s fine, but you’d be closer to most of your meetings if you moved in with me, plus you know you love that little bistro down the street. And anyway, we’ve lived together already, and we didn't kill each other then.”

“I mean, yeah, but barely—“

“This is different, I know. But…good different?” She tries to keep the shyness from creeping into her voice.

“Well, my lease is up at the end of January,” Rory says, then bites her lower lip. “Is this crazy? Is this what crazy people do?”

“I have been informed several times that I am not in fact an objective authority on such matters.”

Rory laughs. “True. But even if it is crazy…I think I might be in.”

“It makes sense,” Paris agrees. “We have some time to think about it…to figure this whole thing out.”

The light on the monitor turned red. Leo is awake.

Rory presses a quick kiss to Paris’s lips and then grabs her panties and Paris’s button-down from the floor.

“I’ll be right back. He usually goes back down for a bit after a diaper change.”

Paris sighs, then calls after her, “You’re out of coffee. I’m gonna go grab a latte on the corner, I’ll bring one back for you.”

“And a scone?”

“Scone or bagel?”

“Whatever you think looks better.”

Paris pulls a pair of jeans and an old Yale sweatshirt out of her suitcase.

She lingers in the doorway of Rory’s bedroom, watching as Rory smiles down at Leo.

Rory glances up. Her hair is flat on one side, and the buttons of the shirt she’s wearing are done up crooked, but she’s never looked more beautiful.

“Hey. Coffee?”

“Coffee,” Paris smiles. “Be right back.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed you can reblog the photoset [here.](https://aadmelioraa.tumblr.com/post/635624073343434752/aadmelioraa-3k-rated-t-post-canon-hey-ive)


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